


Golden Glow

by theshyauthor



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Shower Sex, Smut, dan is an asshole, musician!Dan, or maybe just lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7003936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshyauthor/pseuds/theshyauthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The music stops and Phil opens his eyes, and the golden glow filling the room compliments Dan’s skin so well and makes his hair look soft, and now the creases on Dan’s forehead are back, the ones Phil was so desperate to kiss away last night, and Phil knows that his time is running out.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Dan is a musician without a heart and Phil the idiot that returns to his hotel room whenever he calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Glow

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a fic in a hotel room while I was at a convention a few weeks ago and lost the smutty half of it when getting autographs. This is its companion piece. Maybe I'll write the original fic down again eventually, but for now I hope you enjoy this one. :) x

Phil wakes up to the sound of strings being plucked softly. Dan is sitting on the edge of the king bed, guitar in his lap, and his eyes are closed as he plays a gentle melody that fills the room and fits right in with rumpled sheets and the golden glow of sun rays. There are no signs of tiredness on his face, his hair is free of products and slightly curled at the edges, and it’s one of the moments that Phil cherishes the most, because right now in an expensive hotel suite in Manchester, he gets to see the real Dan Howell.

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar melody, and he wonders if it’s a new song that Dan is working on, and he hopes this moment lasts forever, because he knows that soon it will be over again. Dan will ask him to get dressed and leave, and Phil will go back home to his shitty flat with plants he’s desperate to keep alive and a cat that hates him more than anything, and Dan will leave the city and maybe even the country, and he won’t come back for months. And he will leave Phil behind with a heart that’s been taped back together with band-aids so many times that there’s no space for new ones anymore, and as time goes by Phil will try to forget, and then he’ll turn on the radio and hear Dan’s voice again and remember that he can never really escape. And when he finally decides that Dan Howell has no hold on him anymore, his phone will ring and it will be Dan on the other side of the line, telling him he needs him and he misses him and that he’ll be sending him the address of the hotel he stays in, and Phil will come running. He knows that it’s a lie, that Dan doesn’t really need him, but that doesn’t change the fact that Phil needs Dan.

“I know you’re awake.”

The music stops and Phil opens his eyes, and the golden glow filling the room compliments Dan’s skin so well and makes his hair look soft, and now the creases on Dan’s forehead are back, the ones Phil was so desperate to kiss away last night, and Phil knows that his time is running out.

“I like what you played,“ he offers tentatively, and a small smile flickers over the edges of Dan’s lips before he looks away, so fast that Phil’s not sure if it was really there.

“It’s late.“

Phil knows that’s a lie. It’s early morning and the city is still asleep, but he doesn’t argue. He never argues when Dan lies. Not when Dan says he misses him or needs him or that when he’s sometimes at the other end of the world he’ll think of him. They are all lies, because Dan’s entire life is a lie. Phil doesn’t think that Dan knows what the truth is anymore.

He untangles himself from expensive bedsheets that smell like sex and sweat and gets out of bed. At the doorframe to the bedroom he turns back around and looks at Dan, who is studying the tuners on his guitar like they are the most interesting thing in the room - they are not, Phil thinks in frustration, because he should be the most interesting thing in the room to look at. 

“I’m going to have a shower,“ Phil says, voice still rough from disuse, and the golden glow filling the room through the window makes Dan’s long eyelashes look like a treasure chest, protecting what used to be a spark of happiness in his brown eyes. He watches as Dan licks his lips but shows no reaction to Phil’s words. “You can join if you want to.“

Phil will never get used to the luxury of showers in expensive hotel suites. The water is warm the moment Phil turns it on. The water pressure feels like a soft massage on his shoulders and he washes away the sweat and semen from last night, washes it down the drain and wishes that he could do the same with his memories, but they stay. They always stay unlike Dan, who will be gone again soon.

The door to the bathroom opens and closes again, just like Phil anticipated, and then he feels a presence behind him, a chest pressed against his back and Dan’s erect penis nestled into his cleft. A pair of lips grazes the skin on his shoulders and leaves behind marks as long fingers wrap around his soft cock and coax it into hardness with a few strokes. Phil doesn’t want this, doesn’t want everything between them to be sexual, but he knows that this is the only reason he’s standing in this fancy shower in this fancy bathroom in this fancy hotel suite in this fancy hotel right now. Dan doesn’t call him for the company. He doesn’t call him because he wants meaningful conversations at three a.m., because that’s what his friends are for, the ones that pretend to care about him and are the first to sell his secrets to the press with a smile on their faces. He calls him because Phil is there for his sexual relief, and Phil will come whenever Dan calls.

He turns around and faces Dan, and he watches as the water runs over the man’s skin and droplets wet his lips, and he leans forward and wants to taste them so bad. They taste like smoke and peppermint and move against Phil’s with an urge, and his fingernails dig into Phil’s skin and they hurt, but Phil welcomes the pain. It reminds him not to get lost in his fantasy, helps him remember that this is not real. 

Phil drops to his knees and wraps his lips around Dan’s cock, and it’s uncomfortable because the water is still falling down and it’s hitting him in the face, so he closes his eyes to not have to see, and he takes Dan as deep as he can, and tries to drown out the groans by focusing on the sound of water falling on the tiles beneath him and on his skin. His fingers wander to Dan’s hole and the pad of one rubs over it and feels it contract under his touch, and he remembers how good it felt when Dan clenched it around his cock last night. 

Dan whimpers and then there are fingers in Phil’s hair, pulling him up, because Dan is always rough, because Dan doesn’t know how to be gentle with anything else but his guitar, and he begs Phil to fuck him, turns around and bends forward, the palms of his hands pressed against the cold tiles for leverage. Phil spreads his cheeks and lets the tip of his thumb circle Dan’s hole, assesses the situation. He’s not surprised when he finds Dan’s hole slick with lube. He must have prepared himself before joining Phil in the shower. 

Time is something that Dan doesn’t have, and he whines impatiently when Phil doesn’t follow his request immediately. So Phil gives in and he pushes in, watches as his cock disappears into Dan’s hole, and unlike last night when he was intoxicated by Dan’s presence, the pure joy of being called to his hotel after months, it doesn’t feel sensational. It feels dull. Dan’s moans sound fake and the way he arches his back looks painful if anything, but Phil still pounds into him and gives him what he asks for, wraps his arm around him from behind and strokes Dan’s penis in time with his thrusts, until Dan shoots over his hand and on the dark tiles. Phil pulls out then and Dan wriggles his hips in invitation, and Phil finishes himself off quickly, paints Dan’s back with warm cum that mixes with water and gets washed away into the drain immediately, and Phil watches it go and wishes again that he could watch his memory of Dan go down the drain as well. 

Of course the towels in this hotel are fluffy, fluffier than the ones Phil has at home, and he considers stuffing one into his bag, but it would only be another reminder of Dan to look at in his everyday life. There is no space for Dan in Phil’s everyday life.

Getting dressed, he can already see the way Dan fidgets and watches him with hawk eyes, and he knows the second he has his jeans buttoned and his shirt on what Dan will say next.

“It’s late already.“

 That’s a lie, because it’s not even 8 a.m. yet and Phil is still tired, but the golden glow no longer fills the room and the magic is gone, and Dan looks harsh and his brown hair is straightened and full of products it doesn’t even need, and the guitar is in its case, safely tucked away, and sometimes Phil wonders if maybe the Dan sitting on the edge of the bed with a guitar in his lap plucking away on the strings and producing a soft melody was nothing more but an illusion, wishful thinking. 

Phil picks up his bag and Dan brings him to the door, and his goodbye is a hasty kiss to his lips that tastes like poison and cold brown eyes watching him calculatingly. 

“I’ll miss you,“ a voice says, a rehearsed line that sounds insincere. “I’ll call you soon.“ A half truth and a half lie, because Phil knows that Dan will call again, but not anytime soon.

“Take care,“ Phil says before he walks away, and the door behind him is closed before he’s two steps down the hallway. He leaves the hotel and he’s not surprised to find people waiting outside, mostly teenagers with hopeful looks on their faces that drop once they realise that Phil is not Dan. He’d like to tell them that Dan Howell is not that great, that it’s not worth waiting for him and that he’ll take the back entrance of the hotel to leave anyway. He wants to tell them how Dan doesn’t care about anyone but himself, how this man is made out of nothing but lies, and maybe he hopes that if he says it out loud, Phil will believe his own words. But he presses his lips into a thin line and walks past, doesn’t let a word slip. 

Dan doesn’t call, but when he does it’s three months later and he’s asking Phil in a husky voice to come to his hotel room, that he misses him. Phil wants to say no but he says yes anyway, and he puts on his best shirt and hopes that maybe this time it doesn’t need the golden glow of the morning light for him to see Dan’s softer side.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's chat on [tumblr](http://theshyauthor.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/itstheshyauthor).


End file.
